Page 167 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

“Little dude, why are men like this?” I ask the dog, turning the phone toward him. He squints at the screen, unimpressed. Sniffs the air. “Want to move in with me permanently? Wouldn’t that be fun? Huh?”

I go to give him more pets but he lets out a soft sneeze and hops off the couch—clearlyover my pity party. Gio trots to the other end of the room, his bald stick legs barely making a sound, before flopping onto his blanket.

“Never mind. I take that back.”I didn’t need a dog’s support anyway.

I glance back at my phone, debating whether to swipe on another profile or just delete the app altogether.

Curiosity wins out and I continue scrolling; mindlessly, thumb hovering over a man’s profile named Blake. Five years older, well-dressed, and posing with a golden retriever in front of a hiking trail.

“Hmm,” I mumble, narrowing my eyes at the screen. “Are you really outdoorsy, Blake, or did you borrow your cousin’s dog for the photo?”

I tap on his bio.

It goes on and on,blah blah blah, “lover of coffee, live music, and spontaneous road trips.”

Okay, Blake.

A little generic, but nothing offensive. No shirtless selfies, no fish photos—already an improvement!

I glance over at Gio, who is now snoring softly on his blanket.

“What do you think?” I say to no one. “Swipe right or no?”

The dog’s ears don’t even twitch.

“Fine. Swipe left,” I say, swiping past Blake and moving on to the next profile.

It’s a guy holding a sword. Not, like, a fencing sword—an actual sword. In his living room.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, swiping left so fast I nearly drop my phone.

The next guy is a little better: a cute smile, some pictures with friends, and no immediate red flags.

The bio?Looking for my queen. Must love adventure and tacos.

I groan. “Must love tacos? What does that even mean? Everyone loves tacos, Kevin. You’re not special!”

Left.

My thumb freezes over the next profile, though, because the guy looks…familiar? No, not familiar. He looks exactly like my childhood dentist. Same slightly unnerving smile, same weirdlyperfect hair, but grayer than the last time I had a cavity, which was over ten years ago.

“Nope,” I say aloud. “You are a creep!”

I flop back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as Gio lets out a tiny snort in his sleep.

“This is it,” I tell him. “This is my life now. Me, you, and a never-ending stream of weirdos on the internet.”

I’m doomed.

Swipe.

Swipe.

Then.

I see another profile that looks familiar.

I freeze, holding the phone closer to my face than necessary, my heart skipping a beat as I stare at the bio of Luca—as in Luca Babineaux, my brother's teammate and the guy Austin and I had been gossiping about months ago…

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